The Visit
by WorldInvent
Summary: Prelude to "Thirteen Days." Five years have passed since Sarah and Jareth had crossed physical paths. A nocternal encounter presents them both with a unique situation. Part I for the "Thirteen Days."


She knew he was there

She knew he was there. She knew before she even turned on the light. Shrouded in darkness sitting in the far corner of the room, a leg casually crossed, fingers relaxing on the arms of the chair, with a sensual smirk defining his otherwise schooled face. The light of the moon, shining in through the thin drapes that covered her window, highlighting his fair, feather hair and making his ethereal skin shimmer. She knew. Her hand dallied on the light switch in that moment she became aware of his presence. She could smell him; his distinct wild spices that were no doubt a representation of masculine hormones filling her nostrils.

She knew.

With her realization also came a sharp twinge as her logical self caught up with her vivid mental description of him. Such distinct memories of his appearance should not have been so readily at her disposal. For a woman who had tried everything short of inflicting a head wound for amnesia to forget his face, his eyes, his lips, his jaw line, the recollection was strong. Too strong, she thought, for her own good especially considering that he was making himself known to her in the confines of her bedroom.

Her fingers continued to hesitate on the switch.

What could he possibly want? There had been minimal contact since that fatal night five years ago in which she had turned his world upside down in her innocent yet poignant victory. A smile threatened the corners of her mouth. The word minimal rightly described things, as the only time she ever caught a glimpse of him was when she was dreaming. Just glimpses. Dreams are surreal experiences, often flighty and filled with illusions. Had he been haunting her dreams to see her? Or had she been seeking him out in her nocturnal consciousness? Either way the dreams had allowed for nothing more than fragments- a glimmer in the corner of her eye; a feather falling away; or the slight echo of a foot step. Yet her mind had known he was in her dream. Just as now she knew that he was in the room, waiting patiently for her.

Would he vanish the moment she flicked the switch, leaving behind a glittering gold residue? At the sound of the click would she look to only find a few owl feathers drifting in the air? Or would he remain? Her imagination struggled with her common sense at the thought of him being there. Perhaps it was no more than the faint school girl fantasy that she still carried around with her that caused her to feel a little excitement, maybe even anticipation.

What if she left the light off? What if she decided to move through the darkness? After all it was her bedroom. A room she was familiar with and could move about easily in without the aid of light. How would he react to her closing her door, walking the carpet, and finding him in the corner chair? Even in the moon light she could see the glint in his eye as she undressed before him, shimmying out of her blue jeans and unbuttoning her blouse. Would he move cat like to her side to aid in the removal of her under garments? Perhaps he would. Though she fancied to herself that he would more likely taunt her actions by remaining seated, enjoying the shadow play that she was providing. Men after all, whatever their breed, are visual creatures.

This time she wanted more than a glimpse in her peripheral. This time was not a dream and she was no longer quite so prone to innocent ways. Her logical side shoved her imagination aside and made her consider other options. Alright, close the door, she thought to herself, leave the light off, but no strip tease ala Demi Moor style. How about you try a simple conversation starter like: "Hello", or "What do you want?" She squared her shoulders, removed her hand from the light switch, and turned to close the door. With it shut, she found she had to take a good deep breath to calm her nerves that suddenly tensed. They were alone together.

"Jareth?" she softly called out in to the darkness. Another deep breath. "Are you there?"

No voice answered her. She could hear him breathing quietly, calmly. She knew he was there, his scent had flooded her lungs, then why bother with such a silly question? More notably he knew she was aware of him. He had let his presence in certain subtleties be made known to her. Perhaps a direct "hello" would have been more appropriate.

"Hello Sarah."

His voice was like electricity to her body; jolting her stomach and tensing her chest. All he had said was one common greeting and her name. "Hello Sarah." So then why was her heart suddenly thumping as if she had just gone for a quick jog? Why was her skin tingling as if he had touched her? Another deep breath was inhaled to suppress her hormones that had seen fit to take interest in the male presence in the room.

She looked in the direction of his voice. Just a partial arm and the tip of a boot was all she could make out in the dim moon light. "What brings you here?" Her voice, she decided, sounded far too light and airy.

He took his time responding again. "Curiosity." He paused allowing the word to hang in the air. "Curiosity is what brings me here." The one visible arm moved and bent up at the elbow. Through the darkness she could see that he had brought his hand to his chin, placing his fingers near his mouth. It was a gesture he often did when he was intently thinking. "Do you realize," he began. "how long it has been Sarah… since you and I have had any actual, physical contact?"

Absently she licked her lips. "Roughly five years by my recollection."

"Hmm, five years," he murmured. "That is a long time. Time enough for people to mature, develop new habits," a pause. "Even grow up."

Her defenses flared. "Jareth if you thought you would find me to be different, to not be Sarah any more you wasted your time coming." She had managed to keep her tone flat, near dismissive.

"I was referring to my self," was the cool counter-reply.

"Oh."

"I should never hope or wish to see your fire gone. In fact," he shifted unfolding his one leg and stretching out the other. "I am rather pleased to come and find it still intact."

"Well," she began, finding the conversation to be rather odd, but pleased that her body had since calmed. "I am glad to put any concerns to rest. So… you can run along now, I guess."

"I'm not finished." Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light enough to see him rise from the chair. He stepped in front of the window becoming silhouetted in the dim light. It had also brought him just a little closer to her. Now she could make out his one eye with its little speck of reflecting light and the soft glow of his blonde hair. "I have a proposition for you Sarah."

Proposition- the word brought to mind everything from hookers to bank jobs. Both prospects and every other activity in between offered excitement. Cautiously she encouraged him to explain himself.

"Do you ever have dreams where you are seeking something? You cannot necessarily see it or define it, but your mind forces your mental self to pursue this un-tangible object; teasing you, taunting you." As he spoke he had taken two steps to the side of her bed. With seemingly little purpose he had stretched out his hand and trailed his fingers along her pillows, his hand smoothing over the creases and dipping down to where the sheet and comforter met with the pillow's edge. She actually blushed at the movement. "So much so, that you find yourself seeking sleep so that you can be near this thing that you so desperately want." His fingers caressed the fabric of her comforter as he traveled down the length of the bed. "Every dream brings you closer." He was at the foot board. Over the carved wood his fingers traveled. "So close that you could very nearly reach out and grab what you desire."

He was close, so very close. His whole speech had been one thunderous orchestration of electricity. She had goose bumps on more places than just her arms and legs. His hand that had just so lovingly moved over her bed was hovering in the air. Abruptly he dropped it and turned away. "Yet you wake up and find your pursuits have been in vain."

Composure was her next thought. A good deep breath allowed her to find her voice. "So," she cleared her throat. "what exactly is this proposition you have me?"

"I have a need," he said his voice sultry. "that I desire you to fulfill."

She considered this for a moment…. And every other activity in between, she thought to her self trying not to smile. "So, in other words," brutal honesty was just her forte. "you're feeling right randy and need a willing partner to bed?"

If she had been able to clearly see his face, she knew that one of his eye brows would have been cocked suggestively and that his lips would be turned at the corners in a smirk. She knew it without actually seeing it.

"To put it crudely, yes, that is in essence what I am proposing to you."

"In essence?" she repeated taking her first step further into her own bedroom. "Let's not mince words here Jareth. I am grown up woman now, a big girl,"

"As if I hadn't noticed."

She shrewdly narrowed her eyes. "What," she began, feeling that fire that he had so deliberately mentioned earlier. "makes you think that after five years you and sex would become synonymous?"

In several short strides he was in front of her. Backing her up against the door, he braced his arms on either side of her. His face became quite clear so close. He had a look that could very well melt glaciers or move mountains. At the moment it was making her knees quake. "Because I know," he said inclining his head. "that you are tired of just dreaming."

Using the door for support and ignoring the warm jolt that shot through her veins, she quickly thought of a retort. "I'm not so sure- five years is a decent amount of time to come to terms with one's situation."

He raised an eye brow defiantly. "I don't believe you. Even as you walked in the room tonight, realizing I was there you hesitated at the door."

"So?"

"You hesitated to determine what form of action you should take. If you think my hormones are electrifying my dear, yours nearly set me ablaze." His warm breath wafted over her skin. Wild spices were tormenting her senses. "What a lustful, glorious way to die: consumed in the passionate flames of your heat," he continued moving his head closer touching forehead to forehead.

Blood pumped maddeningly through her body. She was tense, rigid with him so close. She'd be a right fool, a nasty cheat to deny having ever dreamed about him.

She became aware that he had slid a hand to her waist. His fingers were familiarizing themselves with the curve of her hip bone. "Five years is a decent amount of time," he said thoughtfully. His hand moved over her hip, made a pass over her backside, and then rested again at her waist. "Time has definitely changed you."

"And what about you?" she managed to ask. "What has five years done for you?"

He inhaled sharply before answering. "I didn't have to come here tonight." He pulled back to look her in the face. "I could have had any wench at my disposal had it just been a matter of gratification. I came here though, looking for you. Now with your willing cooperation, I am going to kiss you."

She snapped back into reality. "W-what-?"

"Shut up," he said forcefully as he met her lips. Using his one hand that was already touching her, he moved his arm smoothly about her back. Angling her mid drift against his, he was then able to bring his other hand away from the door and into her hair. Five years was also a terribly long time to wait. Jareth would also have been a right fool to say that his dreams of searching and ridiculously pining had not been about Sarah. He allowed no outlet for her to protest, but assaulted her mouth in a deep kiss. Repeatedly he slid his tongue about, caressing the soft sensitive lining of her mouth. He lifted his head and hovered near. "That's what five years has done to me." He was breathing heavy now. "I'm going to have to kiss you again, you know."

It was impossible to catch her breath. His skillful motions were leaving her weak in the knees. He was putting neck breaking force on the back of her head. It forced her to meld closer still with him. She felt his body; felt her breasts rub against his chest. The sensation was thrilling. Roughly he pulled back from her, his breath heavy, his hands and arms still clinging to her. His eyes regarded her with intense sexuality. If he been randy before then this moment was the thresh hold of no return. The pause was his way of communicating it to her.

Five years.

She studied his face. For all of her past efforts his features were exactly how she remembered them. His eye brows arched and swept away from his eyes in that most non-human way. His eyes stared back at her, the unbalanced color of his pupils making it impossible to know what exactly he was thinking. His jaw line was smooth and defined, tense though. Any real inclination about what wheels or screws were currently turning in his mind was revealed by the natural communications of the rest of his body. It was just enough for her to understand; ready to dwindle if she refused or ignite should she accept.

He smelt of the centuries, aged to a certain perfection. Normal men- frat boys or professors, club hoppers or nerds- they did not smell so enticing. It was a quality crafted by the unseen creator for the benefit of the fae only.

Lightly she felt him graze her lips, his hand flexing in her hair. It was an impatient gesture. She relaxed her hold on him feeling all at once a strange, confusing mixture of want and uncertainty. A dream of pursuit was one thing actually bedding the Goblin King was another all together. Roughly he let her go, giving her a slight shove to distance their bodies. The cool rush of air was most unwelcoming to her neither regions. Dang it, she thought.

"Waste of time," he stated coldly, turning away.

No- he could not leave. That had not been her intent. Her logical side had just inconveniently caught up with the situation. Her hormones could only hold that part of her mind at bay for so long. Just a few moments to reconcile her self to the situation was all that she had really needed. All of her was united though in the resolve that he could not leave.

"No wait, just a second." Her hand caught his arm. Her fingers enclosed around muscles and tendons that were taunt. In the grasp she felt the thumping of blood pass through his skin to her own veins. The touch was enough to stay him. Little prickles, like racing spiders of pure energy raced up her arm. "Wait," she said again. He looked at her still disarmingly. His jaw had relaxed just a bit. "What do you really want to happen here- a one night stand?"

His eyebrows rose. "What if it is- would you concede?"

Her common sense had taken up some residency with her logic. "No. I'm not that sort of girl."

"I see." Glancing down at her hand that still held his arm he continued, "What would your response be if I told you I wanted more than just one night?"

It sounded positively lovely. Many nights of feeling his lips on hers kissing, sucking, and licking her lips till they ached. Many nights of his body against hers: no clothes, no boundaries. Her hand felt the muscles in his arm ripple and she wondered just how muscular the rest of him was. She saw him naked before her uninhibited, demanding that she be naked as well to expose all of her womanly glory to him. He would kiss on more places than just her mouth. The moment was gone and he was as he had been before. Undoubtedly she was hot and flushed.

"Believe you me, my dear," his arm twisted and his hand took hold of her forearm. His other hand mimicked the hold on her other arm. Grasping her tight he closed the small distance between them. "It would take many a night for me to ever be 100 satisfied with you." Using his body he forced her against the door. She made some surprised noise at finding her self so enclosed. "Five years," he murmured tauntingly close to her face. His eyes held some feral quality as he let them drop to survey her body pressed against his. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, beautiful breaths. "I should want to be intimately acquainted with each and every new development."

He moved as if to kiss her instead painfully just brushing them. Involuntarily her lips parted in anticipation. Deliberately he held off a real kiss. Using the tip of his tongue he skimmed the soft wrinkles of the thin skin teasing her to respond. The moist contact brought out her hormones in full force. She made to respond only to find him trailing his mouth across her cheek, along her jaw line near her ear.

Willingly she let him bend her arms up, positioning them all most above her head. Still he gripped her, pinning her to the door. Quite honestly she barely registered the movement for at the same time his lips had honed in on a patch of skin behind and slightly lower than her ear. So sensitive was the zone of nerves that she turned her head to the side attempting to gulp down a breath of air that would hopefully sustain her strength. Naturally though with her head turned so it actually offered a more convenient amount of exposed neck for him to enjoy. The breath she inhaled only took oxygen to a few specific locations, thus zapping her ability to continue supporting her own weight. She fancied that the best thing to do was to sort of fall on him. Sensing her shift he held her pinned by maneuvering a bent knee between her legs.

Against her better judgment she allowed for a faint moan to pass her lips. Part of her maddeningly wanted her logical side to return, to give her time to asses the situation. While the rest of her simply quivered and reeled. She was definitely taking too much pleasure in his advances.

"What say you now Sarah?" He was cheek to cheek with her rubbing lazily like a cat. It wouldn't have fazed her if he had begun purring. His hands flexed. "I've only kissed you twice, barely begun to touch you," he paused moving his face so she could look at him. "Let us find out what other reactions we can entice out of one another." Perhaps his leg had simply gone stiff, or one of his feet had started to ache- either way he moved, sliding his body about causing toe curling sensations to run through her body courteous of his bent knee. She sucked air through her teeth.

Realizing that her common sense was most definitely not going to arrive to rescue her logical self from her raging hormones she strained her neck to move her head away from the door. She planted a messy, half on target kiss on that velvety mouth of his. He let her have her moment of control only to then have her flush against the door again. Having released her arms he received his own dose of goose bumps as she touched him. She was running her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. One of her hands wound its way through his hair. Growing more impatient by the minute he dropped his hands to her hips. He slid his fingers under the hem of her blouse feeling the softness of her waist and stomach. Then he dropped them lower to her thighs. With an endearing display of masculinity he had both of her thighs gripped tightly and had her hoisted up on his hips. They now stood with her legs wrapped around his middle.

Demi Moor, eat your heart out, she thought cheekily in the same moment he had lifted her off of her feet. This pressing, rubbing, kissing, touching business was far more intriguing then any little peep show. Though to be certain she would not be objectional or even raise an argument to the task of undressing him. He rolled his hips against her. Let's start that task now… She tugged at his shirt as he moved away from the door. Despite those flamboyantly delicious boots he indulged in he never tripped. She found herself giggling from deep in the back of throat as he walked. He responded with his own throaty chuckle. The sound was sex: sensual and pleasurable.

Lowering her to the bed was the final step over the thresh hold. All of her was awake and ready for the idea of having him. Out of her dreams and into reality. She would allow him to undress her, peel her jeans away from her followed by the slow unbuttoning of her blouse. It would be a divine, gradual process. Then she would take her time with his clothes, touching his smooth skin. He was grinning at her, unabashedly watching her dreamy expression.

"Hmm," was the sound he made, quizzically raising an eye brow.

"Just some ideas on how to," he moved his face closer to hers. "entice some of those delicious responses."

"Ghads!" he exclaimed running his hand over her body. "When you turn on, you turn on." He began to kiss her again.

There was a knock at the door. They ignored it. His hands had wandered again under the hem of her shirt- he was in the process of acquainting his fingers with what five years had changed about her. Over the fabric of her bra his hand was massaging her. Another moan escaped her. The knock came again, followed by a female voice calling out, "Sarah!" Tentatively they regarded each other. Dared she move away from him? "Sarah, come on! I've got your biology notes to give back to you."

This bedroom wasn't the same as at home. Here there were other dorm girls, other students. It limited privacy. Awkwardly she bit her lip. "It's my study mate Penelope," she began explaining to him. For a moment his eyes held a deadly expression, as if he had the notion to cast some horrible hex on the girl responsible for interrupting his little onset. "I-I should get those notes back from her." The look passed.

He rolled off of her with a sigh. "Alright, hurry up you!" He swatted at her as moved off of the bed.

Not only did she answer the door, but she also slipped outside to talk to this Penelope. He stretched on his back, tapping out a rhythm on his leg with his hand- tap, tap, taptaptap. He could hear Sarah's voice conversing with the other girl. Perhaps only ten seconds had ticked by; it was enough though to make him agitated.

Tap, tap, taptaptap.

Her logical side was going to catch up with her hormones. He was going to have to coddle her back into bed with him; use more time, perhaps even force to get the end result. Grinning into the darkness, he relished the dirty little thought of holding her down, ripping away her jeans, and making short of any other garments she might have on. Absently he wondered if his dear Sarah had any scarves that would be sturdy enough to tie some body up with. He dismissed the thought.

Tap, tap….taptaptap.

No, he wanted her willing. A willing partner was an active participant. A willing partner would moan, arch, and scream his name into the night…. For the love of all that's pure and holy, what was taking her so long? He pulled himself up right on the bed. Looking around the room he saw a collection of tapes and records and a stereo on a book case. Impatiently he glanced towards the door and then back at the stereo. A little mood music might serve as a good security measure. He went to the shelf.

Not that he recognized half of what was there- some androgynous man with a lightening bolt across his face, a woman with short fiery red hair and a black mask across her eyes, and a myriad of others. One of the cassette tapes looked very personal- it was compilation of various musicians. Prince- "I Would Die For You." Queen- "You're My Best Friend." Adam Ant- "Navel to Neck." The Cure- "Lovesong." The Church- "Under the Milky Way Tonight." Each track listing had been hand written. All of the songs seemed rather suggestive; all rather befitting the situation at hand. He popped it into the machine and fiddled with the volume control.

Penelope thought that Sarah looked a little flustered, as if her knock at the door had startled her, badly. She tried to start some small talk, but her friend seemed quite intent on getting back inside her room. Sarah was finding it hard to look Penelope in the face. She was hiding a man in her room; breaking a million dorm codes; and quite frankly enjoying every minute of her reckless behavior. The biology notes were in her hand. Her body was screaming at her to get back inside the bedroom. Penelope was probing her from behind her glasses. Mumbling a thanks and something about maybe talking to her later, Sarah ducked back inside. Thirty seconds had ticked by.

She stopped short in the door way. First she registered that her bed was empty. She had left him there. Had he gone? Now why had that thought nearly knocked her backwards? Then she registered the music,

"You - I would die for you, yeah  
Darling if you want me to  
You - I would die for you."

He was walking from her stereo back across the room to the bed. He was grinning, no doubt. How had he known how to work the machine? More importantly how had he found that mix tape? It was her personal selection of sexy songs; songs that made her feel good, like a woman. Dang it- the tape was mood music.

He deviated from his path to come to her. Before she could even set aside the papers she held, he was kissing her. It was a soft, gentle, coaxing kiss. He knew she wanted him; had smelt her arousal. This kiss was to blow on the smoldering flames. She was sweet and tangy all at once. He could very easily get drunk on her.

The papers fluttered to the floor as she put her arms around him. He needed to be undressed. Moving her hands over him she pulled his shirt free to then slide her fingers underneath to touch him. There were muscles and curves all his own to enjoy caressing. Then the shirt was over his head. In a series of movements too rapid and slick to fully recall he was half naked, bent over her on the bed. Her flimsy flip flops had sailed from her feet in the process.

He was in the process of single handedly unbuttoning her top. She wondered if her heart could beat any faster; should she climax would the organ burst in her chest. Should she? She thought again. Dang well had better. Rolling together she now sat, straddled over him, his hands pulling her arms out of the sleeves. His skin on hers- the electrical sensation was thrilling. She leaned over him, parted lips willing and needing. His tongue met hers rubbing and sliding.

Hands on her hips he forced her against him, moving his body in a provocative half roll. She had to brace her arms against the mattress. He repeated the motion again. His fingers were digging into the fabric of her jeans, causing painful welts, demanding that she return the motion, to grind her hips against him. She couldn't, not yet. "I assume," she interjected, breathless and tight, before he could do it again. "that you some kind of protection in mind?"

Breathing laboriously he starred at her puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

Alright, awkward.

"You know- protection? Birth-control; a condom?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't use them."

Nothing is quite so much a mood killer to a young, vital, single woman as the realization that her sexual partner isn't prepared. "Don't use them?" She reared up off of him.

He realized that this was a matter of difference between being human and being fae. Looking up at her he was struck by how lovely she was- her hair tussled around her face. He licked his lips. "I don't use such things because I don't need to," he said not letting her go.

Crossing her eye brows she began to reprimand him, "That's mighty cocky of you! You're not going to impregnate me!" She knocked her bent knee into his rib cage and pulled herself off of him.

He half scoffed, half gasped at her. Her proclamation humored him. Her knee to his side had sort of hurt. "See here, I am not going to impregnate you." He tried to hold onto her.

Her arousal was turning into anger. She felt stupid. Mistaking his confidence for pure crotch-thought, she proceeded to berate him verbally. "Let go!" she exclaimed. He did. "I don't believe you! What were you planning on doing- using the 'pull out' method? Oh yeah, like that's real reliable!"

"Pull out-," he stopped himself, realizing what she meant. She was really angry at him: she was looking over the edge of the bed for her blouse. "Listen," he began sitting up on his elbows. "Let me explain some things to you. You're thinking like a human, and that is something that I am not." She paused in her attempt to put her shirt back on. "I'm most definitely not going to impregnate you."

"What makes you so sure of yourself?"

"Two things." He held up a hand. "First: you are currently not fertile enough. You are nearing the end of your twenty-eight days of cycle thus making you not the most prime real estate for an heir to be conceived. I know that because I can sense your hormones as if they were visible. Second," he was sitting up now. "I simply have no inclination in becoming a father tonight."

She regarded him. "Explain that second reason."

His body was still alive with anticipation. He had to take a deep breath to continue. "I can choose the… time for…such things to occur." Her face told him she still wasn't convinced. "Look," he began removing his boots. "I can't offer you any tangible evidence. You're going to have to trust me."

The tape deck had flipped sides. Marvin Gaye's soulful, dark chocolate voice had begun to sing. For a moment the two of them just sat there and listened. When the chorus started she rolled her eyes at the obvious irony,  
"Let's get it on, ow baby  
Let's get it on, let's love baby  
Let's get it on, sugar  
Let's get it on, woo!"

He leaned over and lightly kissed her shoulder. He kissed her repeatedly, feathery and soft, over her shoulder and neck. Dang, she couldn't help but smile to herself and allow him to continue. Her blouse was taken from her and tossed back on the floor. Marvin's voice kept insisting, while Jareth's lips kept encouraging. Blasted, blasted, blasted apprehensions! One of his hands was under her bra, teasing her bare breast. He was at her ear. "Why don't we do as the good man says Sarah?" he murmured, huskily.

Yes, why not! She let herself fall back against the bed. He was over her, already intertwining their legs.

"Don't lie to me Jareth," she said looking up at him.

"I have never lied to you, my dear," he said brushing her cheek. "May not have always been 100 forth coming, but I have never lied."

"I don't want to get hurt."

He gently kissed her lips. "King's honor. This is strictly about you and me, pleasure between two adults."

He had a hand between them. Unnoticed and stealthy he had slipped it down while he had been speaking. Pleasure indeed! He was intimately touching, no, stroking her. Her own hands grasped fists full of fabric from her comforter at the sensations he induced. Not a liar, but a dirty, lustful cheat! He resisted repeating the movement. She wouldn't need much more coaxing, and he hated to waste perfectly good hormones on foreplay alone. Instead he just grinned devilishly at her reveling facial expression.

It had been enough to convince her. She brought her hands to his face. Her eyes were smoldering green flames. When she spoke, her voice was that of the goddess Aphrodite to his ears. "Do that again!" she ordered him. A slight change in their leg positions told him to use other appendages than his hands.

"Gladly!" The joyous relief of final, full, relenting commitment could not be hidden in his tone.

Hungrily he took her mouth, kissing her hard. He wafted a hand over her torso, to settle on the button of her jeans. They weren't pealed or torn away; they just simply weren't there in one sweep. He reared up taking her upper body with him, leaving the rest of her bent snugly under him. His fingers made short of the back clasp of her bra. Bare chest to bare chest she wondered why he hadn't simply combusted, the heat between them was so immense. She couldn't recall whether he had taken off his own pants, or if for that matter he had slid off her under wear or if it had been her doing.

Jaw and mouth began to ache under his hard assault, but neither one of them relented. There would probably be bruises in the after math. Love bites would have to be covered up. It mattered not. Ghads, but he looked better naked than she had thought he would. Not so much muscular as lean and defined; his limbs lithe around her.

She was so curvaceous. She had hips that could do wonders, breasts that were hypnotic and all of her so soft in the best female ways. Five years was so much to make up. He was going to take her. He was going to have her. It was going to happen tonight, maybe even in the morning, and then again tomorrow night. He was going to have her time and time again, repeatedly. How could he ever tire of her? It was going to happen now.

Legs bent and angled, she felt him enter her. The friction was electric; enough to cause them both to light up, to begin burning white hot. He worked to find her rhythm. Her heart threatened to explode. He sounded like he was on the verge of hyperventilating, he was breathing so hard and shallow. No doubt every dirty, kinky dorm mate was listening at the door or on the other side of the thin wall. Excited to no end, she moaned loudly. He grunted a response as he continued his thrusting. Let the whole dang university hear them. He was bringing her to the edge of the best, most explosive orgasm she had ever thought humanly possible. He was! Jareth was! Jareth the frickin' King of the Goblins was passionately making love to her, and dang, she was rightly enjoying it.

Then it was over. A thin moist layer of sweat covered her hair line. He was lying against her, still and unmoving except for his deep breathing. Spices fell around them. "Five years," he whispered in her ear. She could hear his smile. Yes, yes, five years of dodging; five years of minimal contact; five years of dreaming, and for what? The avoidance of one of the best dang experience life has to offer.


End file.
